


Birthday Boy

by ElOhElk



Series: Friar and Minkus [1]
Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Fingering, Happy Ending, Insecure Farkle, M/M, Maya coming through bc she's the best, Neglect, Nipple Play, Panic Attack, Rimming, Romantic Lucas, birthday au, bondage???, fluff with a pinch of angst, sex under the stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElOhElk/pseuds/ElOhElk
Summary: Farkle wasn’t lying when he said he hated his birthday, he does. But Lucas doesn’t. Lucas had told Farkle once, fingers brushing over his freckles and down his jaw, that every year on Farkle’s birthday he thanked the universe that it was Farkle who was given life.





	Birthday Boy

**Author's Note:**

> LOOK I'M BACK A YEAR LATER BECAUSE THIS FANDOM IS STILL LACKING SOME SERIOUSLY NECESSARY LUCAS/FARKLE LOVE and im just doing god's work (also you guys were so sweet last time!!!). U are kidding yourself if you don't think Farkle is an insecure lil bab and our boy Lucas isn't gonna try to prove him worthy of all the love and affection. Again, apologies for lack luster (and semi-unrealistic) smut but there's only so much a girl can do. Anyway, enjoy my contribution ;)

Farkle hates his birthday. It’s just a fact - like how the surface temperature of the sun is 5605℃ and the universe is constantly expanding. 

 

At best, his birthday gets ignored, and at worst, Farkle gets forced into a celebration that he never wanted - one that leaves him feeling anxious and drained. In the 9th grade, Lucas, Maya and Riley had attempted to throw him a surprise party, until he had figured it out and practically begged them to cancel it. 

 

That year Lucas had tried to ask why he hated his birthday so much, but the truth was Farkle didn’t really expect Lucas to understand what having the Minkuses as parents was like. On his 5th birthday, his father had told him;

 

“Birthdays are a ridiculous concept designed to trick humans into celebrating their imminent death. Our family will take no part in it.” 

 

And that wasn’t even half as bad as the ‘Santa-Clause-isn’t-real’ bombshell. 

 

Farkle doesn’t blame Lucas, it’s just... He has a loving family. Farkle revels in it every time he goes to Lucas’ house. He always gets a pinch on the cheek and a crushingly warm hug from Mrs. Friar, a ‘Welcome back, son.’ from Mr. Friar, and a bashful smile from his little sister. They’re the type of family that smells like cinnamon and comfort, the kind that knit for those in need and let Farkle stay over for days on end when the oppressive emptiness of his own home becomes too much.

 

In comparison, his own family are practically robotic, and Farkle is fairly sure they only had him to aid his mother’s thesis on the minds of children. If he told Lucas why he hated his birthday - being the empathetic bundle of warmth and muscles he is - he would gaze upon Farkle with big, baby blue, eyes; full of choking pity. 

 

Farkle sighs into his pillow, the smell of Lucas’ skin long since faded. Lucas doesn’t often come to Farkle’s house either - mostly because Farkle won’t let him - seeing as he spends most of his active time trying to avoid the place. The only time Farkle begrudgingly allows it is when his parents aren’t home and he can listen to Lucas’ loud moans echo through the hollow building, warming up the cold shadows from inside out. 

 

Farkle gazes out at the light blue sky, stained with the orange glow of the rising sun. His gaze flicks to the blinking analogue numbers, 5:24 AM, followed by the cursed date, 13 AUG. His phone buzzes on the bedside table, and he reaches out long, pale fingers to snatch it up and read three new texts. There’s one from Riley at 12:02AM, another from Maya and he observes with surprise, even one from his mother. He opens Riley’s message to see;

 

**HaPpY bIrThDaY FaRkLeY! I hope you have an amazing day!**

 

Along with a string of random emojis. Despite himself, it puts a small smile on his face. He sends back a simple, ‘thank you Riley’. 

 

Maya’s is a photo of himself and Lucas from a group movie-night about two months ago. Lucas is crushed into the corner of the couch, head tipped back and mouth open - presumably snoring - with one arm laying heavy on Farkle's back. Farkle is spread out on top of him, head tucked beneath Lucas’ chin and long arms wrapped tight around his middle. Farkle’s chest warms and his smile spreads into something bigger, something more genuine. Her message reads; 

 

**Happy B’day. I’m hoping this is a gift enough ;) (I’m broke rn lol.) Catch ya later!**

 

Farkle decides he’s going to give Maya a massive hug next time he sees her, even if he gets a smack in the head for his troubles. He begrudgingly opens his mothers text, only for all the warmth in his chest to freeze up again;

 

**Your father and I are out today.**

  
__

* * *

 

Farkle tells himself it’s okay that Lucas hasn’t been in contact with him. He tells himself it’s not about his birthday, it’s just strange. Strange that Lucas would forget. The idea makes his chest ache, his fingers feel a little colder and the lump in his throat throb. 

 

Farkle wasn’t lying when he said he hated his birthday, he does. But Lucas doesn’t. Lucas had told Farkle once, fingers brushing over his freckles and down his jaw, that every year on Farkle’s birthday he thanked the universe that it was Farkle who was given life. At the time Farkle had huffed out a laugh and called Lucas a hopeless romantic. But in the moments he can’t help but feel alone, the moments he even  _ wants _ to be isolated - those words lead him out of his mental prison and back into Lucas’ arms. 

 

Farkle glances up at the clock on his bedroom wall, his knee bouncing with nervous tension. 12:05PM. 

 

They have a rule. After 12 PM, nobody is allowed to mention Farkle’s birthday anymore. He figured it would give them time to feel justified in their duties as best-friends, and Farkle wouldn’t have to deal with shallow and exhausting well-wishes. Farkle rubs a palm into his aching chest. 

 

Even before they began dating, Lucas would make his birthday a little more bearable. He never abided by the rule, always left surprises in Farkle's locker, or gave him a tight, warm hug and a whisper of ‘Happy Birthday Farkle’ that would leave him flushed and happy; despite how much he pretended to hate it. Guilt hits Farkle like a punch to the gut. 

 

_ Had Lucas decided that he wasn’t worth the effort anymore?  _ Had he finally gotten tired of Farkles mood-swings? His push and pull, his endless mutters and snarky comments? 

 

_ Stupid Farkle, stupid, stupid, stupid, unworthy, selfish, selfi- _  
  


 

“In; 1, 2, 3. Out; 1, 2, 3. In; 1, 2, 3. Out; 1, 2, 3.” And he kind of hates how it’s Lucas’ voice he hears, steady and calming. Kind Lucas, caring Lucas, much-too-good-for-Farkle Lucas. He closes his eyes and slumps to the floor, wrapping his arms around his legs in a faux sense of protection; willing the panic to settle. 

 

When he opens his eyes again, it’s to those taunting red numbers again. 

 

12:52 PM.

 

* * *

 

Sometime between brooding and 7 PM, Farkle jumps as someone’s fist hits his front door more aggressively than necessary. Farkle instantly recognises it as Maya, but doesn’t much feel like seeing anybody after staring at his ceiling for hours on end. Regardless, he wraps his blanket around him like a cloak and slinks down the stairs.

 

Maya bursts in as soon as he unlocks the door and wrinkles her nose at the sight of him. 

 

“God, it smells like depression in here. How long were you brooding?”

 

Farkle wants to be offended, but he doesn’t really have the emotional energy for it. 

 

“What do you want Maya?” Farkle sighs, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. 

 

“I want you shake whatever this is off and go back up stairs, dress into something nice and come with me.” She demands. Farkle barely has time to process what she’s said before Maya is bodily shoving him towards the stairs again. He drops his weight until she can’t hold him up anymore (like he used to when the bullies tried to throw him around). “What the hell man?!” 

 

“I don’t feel like going out.” He wishes his voice didn’t sound so childish.

 

She sighs and squats on the ground in front of him. “I promise it will make you feel better.” And as much as Maya jokes around, she doesn’t go back on a promise. 

 

Against his better judgement, he stands back up with a sigh and slumps into his room. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Maya whistles when Farkle emerges 15 minutes later and he feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment. “One final touch!” Maya winks, and Farkle goes rigid immediately. That is  _ never _ a good sign. She pulls a piece of black satin out of her jean-pocket, and Farkle holds his hands up and starts backing up slowly. Maya grin grows.

 

With a very manly squeak he bolts down the stairs, but to no avail. Maya catches up, tackles him to the ground and sits on his back. 

 

Despite his indignant protests, she manages to wrap it around his eyes - tight. Farkle doesn’t really want to know where she learnt to do it so quickly. 

 

“Now, the less you struggle the easier this will be.” She gets up, to the pleasure of Farkle’s crushed lungs. “Oh, and no questions. I  _ will  _ hit you.” 

 

Farkles jaw clicks shut. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


So they’ve been driving for at least 25 minutes, Farkle has deduced that much. That means they’re either approaching a highway, are near the Smith’s Fruit Factory or heading towards the hills, where the observatory is.   _ That _ or Maya is having a psychotic episode, kidnaped Farkle and is driving through the New York streets like a mad man. He shrinks down into his seat when Maya chuckles lowly, as if she knows what he’s thinking. 

 

About 10 minutes later Maya stops the car, and Farkle lets out a sigh of relief - Maya has never been the most cautious driver. 

 

Without a word she opens Farkle’s door and pulls him out, then tugs him in whatever direction she’s going. It’s only 20 or so metres before she stops again and releases her death grip on his forearm. 

 

For a second Farkle thinks she’s left him there, but then he feels fingers untying the fabric. 

 

It falls away to reveal an entrance to the observatory, and as Farkle’s eyes adjust to the light the person behind him steps into vision.

 

Lucas. 

 

* * *

  
  


Farkle wants to be upset, stomp and yell at Lucas for not contacting him all day, making him draw horrible conclusions and stew in his own fears. But Lucas is standing there dressed in a suit, hopeful and bashful, and he is beautiful. 

 

“I’m sorry, I know you hate surprises.” Lucas begins, rubbing the back of his neck- a nervous tic of his, Farkle notes. “But, surprise!” He finishes lamely, smiling softly again. 

 

“I don’t understand.” Farkle blurts out, and immediately wishes he could shove the words back into his mouth. Lucas blushes and takes Farkle’s hand, leading him into the building, up the winding staircase and into the observatory room. 

 

He takes a deep breath, “Remember in Middle school, how we put up those stars in your room so you could look at them every night and not feel so alone? Well, this time.. I wanted to bring the stars - the real stars - to you, so you know that even under these stars you will never be alone either.” By the end of his speech, Lucas’ face is red, and Farkle imagines his isn’t much better. His heart swells, any lingering anger forgotten, and he pulls Lucas in to place a soft kiss on his lips. 

 

“Thank you. It’s beautiful, you’re beautiful.” Too good for you, the little voice supplies. 

 

“What is it?” Lucas asks, concern in his eyes, “You’re frowning.” 

 

Farkle curses himself, “It’s just..- I’m not worth all of this, not worth all of you.” He mutters, stepping back, hand slipping out of Lucas’. 

 

Lucas grumbles and steps closer, hand lifting Farkle’s chin to meet his eyes. 

 

“I love you, Farkle. Every day I wake up and wonder how I got so lucky. Every time you smile, laugh, even cry, I’m thankful that I’m the one who gets to see it all. I love you, every single part of you and no matter how hard you push I am not going anywhere.” 

 

Farkle doesn’t realise he’s crying until Lucas’ thumb brushes the tears from under his eyes. He pulls in a shuddering breath, and falls into Lucas, breathing in everything that is him. 

 

“Thank you.” He kisses Lucas’ cheek. “Thank you.” His nose, his jaw. “Thank you.” Finally, his lips. 

 

Lucas sighs into the kiss and pulls Farkle in closer, deepening it. Farkle is more than happy to comply, and nibbles at Lucas’ lower lip before pressing his tongue inside. Farkle hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the taste of him. 

 

Lucas moans into the kiss and slides a hand under Farkles shirt, pressing his thumb into the cut of a hip bone. 

 

Farkle weaves his hands into Lucas’ hair, accidentally pulling on it with a gasp when Lucas trails kisses down his throat, teeth grazing the skin. 

 

“Lucas-! Lucas, we’re in the observatory.” Farkle moans, trying his hardest to have a clear thought.

 

“The _very_ empty, _very_ closed observatory.” Lucas rationalises, spreading both hands down his front to unbuckle Farkle’s belt. 

 

Farkle pretends to consider that but the breath rushes out of his lungs the moment Lucas’ palm rubs against his throbbing dick. 

 

“Oh...” His head falls against Lucas’ shoulder as said boy takes Farkle’s dick in his big hand and pulls on it slowly, thumbing the precome at the head. 

 

Lucas kisses his lax mouth with a smug smirk, “Is this what it takes to get you out of that head?” 

 

Farkle moans in response, pressing up into Lucas’ hand and urging him to go faster. 

 

Lucas chuckles, “No, baby no. Tonight we’re taking it slow, -” and takes his hand off of Farkle’s erection, earning a frustrated whine in response. Farkle pouts, only to have it chased away by a deep, filthy kiss.

 

Lucas pulls him over to where a picnic blanket lies and Farkle recognises it from Lucas’ house. There are red petals strewn around it, and above, the open observatory top where thousands of stars shine, untouched by the New York City glow. Farkle doesn’t know whether to laugh, or give Lucas the best blow job of his life. He turns his gaze from the stars to Lucas again, whose confidence seems to have evaporated again as he shuffles awkwardly,

 

“I hope you like it?” He mumbles, and Farkle’s chest feels so warm and content he worries it might burst. He approaches Lucas, fingers brushing along his lovers cheekbone, looking into ernest blue eyes. 

 

“I love it, I love you.” 

 

The smile he gets in return is blinding, and Lucas pulls Farkle onto the rug, straddling his lap. 

 

“Am I too heavy?” Lucas asks, but Farkle can only gasp out a “No!” because finally there is a beautiful ass rubbing against his dick.

 

Lucas smirks knowingly and grinds his hips down, forcing a choked gasp out of Farkle’s mouth. Lucas unbuttons his shirt with impressive dexterity and pushes it open, fingers smoothing down his ribs. He kisses his way down, painfully slowly, until he reaches the top of Farkle’s open pants. Farkle, growing impatient and ridiculously hard, shoves them down his body, along with his boxers. Lucas chuckles again, the warm air on his most sensitive area forcing a shiver through Farkle’s body.

 

Suddenly, Lucas wraps his warm, tight mouth around Farkle’s cock. Shocking waves of pleasure curl down his spine as he moans Lucas’ name into the cool air. 

 

Lucas sucks, cheeks hollowing, and Farkle moans. “ _ Lucas. _ ” 

 

He hears himself babbling as Lucas really throws himself into it, using his hands to twist and mouthing at the head. “Oh god, your fucking  _ mouth _ .” 

 

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before Farkle is tugging on Lucas’ short strands, choking out, “Close”. 

 

Lucas pulls off with an obscene pop that nearly makes Farkle lose it, before pressing a kiss to his thigh, “Come on, baby. I want it.” and swallows him back down. 

 

Farkle’s thighs squeeze around Lucas’ ribs as his back arches and head tips back, mouth open with an obscene moan the moment he comes. Lucas manages to swallow most of salty heat, but wipes the back of his hand along his chin to catch the rest. It should be gross, but Farkle just finds it ridiculously hot. 

 

Farkle sits up and pulls Lucas towards him, crushing their mouths together, saltiness hitting his tongue. He attempts to slide his hands into Lucas’ dress pants, but the taller boys hand catches his wrist. 

 

“Tonight is about you.” He explains, and kisses each of Farkle’s knuckles softly. Farkle opens his mouth to argue, but Lucas flips him around onto his stomach with a kind of ease that makes Farkle blush hot. Farkle hears the rustling of clothes being removed and wishes he could turn to watch, if it weren’t for Lucas holding his wrists in place. 

 

He hears the tell-tale slide of Lucas’ satin tie before the fabric is woven around his wrists, not so tight that he couldn’t escape if he needed to, but enough to make Farkle’s breath catch and dick twitch with enthusiasm. 

 

Lucas’ sucks a bruise into a dimple above Farkle’s ass, before he peppers kisses downwards, spreading Farkle’s cheeks and laying a filthy kiss on his fluttering hole. 

 

“Is this okay?” Lucas asks, and Farkle can only nod vigorously in response. Lucas blows a warm breath onto his throbbing hole, before delving in, lavishing the twitching muscle. Farkle struggles not to writhe too much, lifting his hips towards Lucas’ wet tongue. 

 

“More Lucas, I need it.. Please, please, more.” Farkle begs as Lucas’ tongue thrusts into his hole, making his toes curl. 

 

“So good, asking so nicely. So good for me.” Lucas mutters into his skin, the pop of a cap promise enough. 

 

Farkle can’t help rutt against the blanket as Lucas presses a cold, slick finger into his warm hole, triggering zings of pleasure as he curls it just right. Farkle lets out a low moan, encouraging Lucas to ease another finger inside him. 

 

His responding whimpers seem to shatter Lucas’ patience, as he pulls out suddenly,tugs Farkles hands free from the tie and wraps his hands around Farkles waist to man-handle him onto his back again, before pushing the fingers back inside. Farkle responds by wrapping his arms around Lucas’ neck and pulling him down for a wet kiss, sucking on his tongue and giving his bottom lip a gentle bite as thick fingers curl inside of his velvety heat. 

 

Lucas groans and presses his forehead against Farkles. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not enough, but I can’t- I can’t wait any longer.” Lucas’ breath is harsh and Farkle wraps his legs around his hips, pulling his dick close to his entrance. “Do it.” Farkle demands, impressed by how level his voice is, despite how hard the rest of his body is shaking in anticipation. 

 

Lucas slicks up his dick quickly and pushes in agonisingly slowly, hands so tight on Farkle’s thighs they’ll leave bruises. They both moan in unison when he bottoms out, hips pressed flush into Farkles ass.  

 

Despite the first sparks of pain, Farkle digs his heels into Lucas’ back, urging him to move. Farkle revels in the stretch, the filthy slide as Lucas pull out again, before he thrusts in quick and deep; punching the air out of Farkle’s lungs. 

 

Lucas builds a steady tempo, thrusting deep and fast, as Farkle pushes his hips down wretchedly, moaning Lucas’ name like a mantra. Lucas practically bends him in half, his thick dick grinding impossibly perfect along his prostate.  

 

“Fuck, oh fuck. So perfect, feels so good inside of me.” Farkle rambles into Lucas’ collarbone, pure lust clouding any rationality left. 

 

Lucas’ bends down and breathes hot over Farkle’s nipple, making the nub tighten almost painfully. He presses the flat of his tongue against the swollen nub, teeth capturing on it and pulling lightly. Farkle responds by smacking his head into the hard ground - too far gone to notice the pain too much - and digging his blunt nails into Lucas’ feverish back. 

 

“Lucas, oh- fuck. Gonna come.” Farkle moans, orgasm pooling like magma in the pit of his stomach. 

 

Lucas licks and bites hickies into his pale skin (Farkle knows part of Lucas likes to do it just so he will wear his old turtlenecks again) and whispers, “Come for me baby.” biting down on his lobe and wrapping a hand around his aching dick, tugging quickly.

 

That’s all it takes for Farkle to scream out, legs wrapping impossibly tight around Lucas’ waist as he comes. Lucas pulls on his cock - milking him through it - and follows quickly after, biting down on Farkle’s shoulder to quiet his groan. 

 

Farkle relishes in the wet heat of Lucas’ cum inside of him and pulls him in deeper, the boy above him giving out with a broken moan. 

 

“Best birthday present ever.” Farkle smiles when his breath settles, sated and happy under the blanket of stars twinkling above them. 

 

* * *

  
  


Shortly after, when Farkle is brushing his fingers through Lucas’ hair, sweat drying in the cool night air, body warm due to the boy on top of him, Lucas says; 

 

“You know, I had dinner arranged and everything. I didn’t plan to get so carried away.” 

 

Farkle chuckles and presses a kiss to his head, “Maybe my birthday isn’t so bad after all.” 

 

Lucas smiles up at him, warm and content and in-love. 

 

“Happy Birthday, Farkle.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love them.


End file.
